


Shameless Wolf

by where_havealltheflowers_gone



Category: Shameless (US), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Because Stiles, Crossover, F/M, Feelings, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con, M/M, Multi-chap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-16
Updated: 2013-04-16
Packaged: 2017-12-08 16:39:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/763619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/where_havealltheflowers_gone/pseuds/where_havealltheflowers_gone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After episode six of Shameless, Ian and Mickey run to California. Things go slightly array when they end up in werewolf-invested Beacon Hills on a full moon. And they just get more tangled as time goes on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter one! 
> 
> No smut in this one, sorry. 
> 
> More characters added later on. 
> 
> Leave comments!!!!

Ian looks surprised when Mickey thread their fingers together. He glances at the older boy, whose leaning his head against the train window with his eyes closed. Mickey exhales through his nose, his shoulders sagging as he does so. "You gonna stare at me all the way to California?" he mumbles.  
Ian can feel a blush creeping up his cheeks before he realizes that Mickey knew he was staring without having to look. This makes the redhead smile. "And if I did?" he asks, shifting around in the uncomfortable seat so he can rest his head back.  
Mickey snorts in response, but says nothing. His fingers tighten around Ian's slightly as they drift off to sleep.

 

They're jolted back to consciousness a few hours later. Mickey is awake before Ian, but not long enough to pull his head off the ginger's shoulder without Ian noticing. Ian's smug smile is enough to earn him a glare and a punch in the arm, but even Mickey knows both gestures lack the heat they would've possessed with anyone else.  
"Quit making goo-goo eyes at me, and get our shit, Gallagher."  
Ian keeps grinning, but does as Mickey says. "Where we staying tonight anyway?" he questions as he gathers their few bags.  
Mickey takes a couple from him; Ian tries not to look shocked. "Know a guy." Mickey mumbles.  
Ian follows Mickey out of the train car, slinging his backpack over his shoulder- or maybe it's Mickey's backpack; he can't really remember when their stuff started overlapping. "How do you know a guy clear out here?"  
Mickey stops to give the taller boy a look of disbelief. "I know people everywhere, Gallagher." he scoffs defensively.  
"Just a question," Ian shrugs as Mickey starts through the station again, "So how are we getting there?"  
Ian drops the duffle bag in his hand when Mickey turns abruptly and plants a kiss firmly on his mouth. It stops before the fact that they're in a public place can register in Ian's mind. "Will you shut the fuck up and just trust that I know what I'm doing?" Mickey breathes out. Ian nods. Mickey thumbs at his lip when notices a group of people gawking. "Got a staring problem?" he shouts at them and doesn't even try to hide his smirk when they jump and look away.  
Ian just shakes his head and smiles as he bends to pick up the bag he dropped. 

 

Mickey pushes on the door to the apartment with a grunt. "Home sweet home," he mumbles sarcastically as he dumps their bags near the doorway.  
Ian takes in the small room as Mickey shuts and deadbolts the door. The lights are dim, but he can still tell the place is dirty. The only furniture is a mattress on the floor and a dusty couch. There are no curtains on the window. He breathes in through his nose, then coughs as the smell of dust, sweat and weed swarms in his nostrils. "You need to know a better guy."  
Mickey chuckles. "Hey," he starts, "it's free. And there's a shower with hot water." He smiles at Ian, "you're welcome."  
Ian puts a hand over his heart. "Awe, Mick. You do care."  
Mickey lets the smile fall from his face. "Yeah..." he trails off, looking down. He looks up into Ian's face. "I do."  
Ian swallows. Mickey takes a cautious step towards him. They hadn't had sex since that dreadful day they were both trying to forget. Ian had tried to chalk it up to how busy they had been with planning their getaway, but he knew the truth: Mickey hadn't been ready. And Ian hadn't pushed it.  
Ian is so caught up in his thoughts that he doesn't notice Mickey's hands on his waist. Ian blinks and smiles down at the only guy he's ever been in love with. Mickey smirks slightly and tightens his grip. He stretches up to kiss Ian's neck. The moan that escapes the younger guy's lips reminds them both how long it's been.  
Mickey pulls Ian in so that they're right against each other and grinds his crotch on Ian's.  
Ian wraps his arms around the dark-headed boy's neck and leans down to put their foreheads together. He closes his eyes. "Sure you wanna do this?" he whispers.  
"'Course I do," Mickey grunts out as he continues to crush their bottom halves together, "Why wouldn't I?" Ian shrugs. Mickey stills. "No, really," the shorter man challenges through grit teeth, "Why wouldn't I?"  
"You know why, Mick."  
Mickey shoves Ian away roughly. "Fuck you."  
"Why are you mad at me? I'm not the one who had you ra-"  
"Don't fucking say raped, man. That's not what happened."  
Ian stares at Mickey, dumbfounded. "Really? Then what would you call it, Mickey, huh?" Ian yells at him. "Because it sure as hell didn't look like you were enjoying yourself." Mickey winces and Ian immediately regrets what he's said. "Shit, Mick, I-"  
"No. Don't apologize. You're right. I just... I...Fuck" Mickey sits on the couch, head buried in his hands. Ian can tell by the movement of his shoulders that he's sobbing.  
Ian sits next to him, placing a hand in Mickey's hair and his chin on the shoulder of the man Ian never thought he would witness breakdown. "I'm sorry." he whispers as Mickey's silent crying subsides.  
Mickey sniffs and wipes his face roughly. "Nothing to be sorry for."  
"I shouldn't have-"  
"No. It's fine." Mickey glances at the ginger and cracks his knuckles. "You know I love you and shit, right?" he whispers softly, staring so intently at his hands that Ian wonders if he meant to say the words out loud. He clears his throat. "I mean," Mickey continues, "in my own fucked up way, I really do. Always have."  
"Yeah, Mick. I know."  
Mickey nods. "Let's sleep." He looks at Ian with a smile. "California tomorrow." 

 

Derek pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs for the what feels like the fiftieth time. "Stiles!" he barks. In true Stiles' fashion, the teenager falls from his perch on the couch to the dusty concrete floor. Derek moves to stand over the boy. "Shut up." he growls.  
"Consider me shut." he mumbles. Derek offers him a hand and pulls Stiles to his feet.  
"Now," Derek continues as Stiles brushes himself off, "As I was saying, tomorrow is the full moon, and-"  
"And you're locking us up," Erica finishes. "Can we go now?"  
"Will you guys just listen to him?" Stiles shouts, just as exasperated as Derek.  
Derek looks at his mate, surprised. He makes a mental note to apologize for yelling at him later. "Thanks," he says, flashing the smile he knows makes Stiles' knees weak.  
"Awe, look at thaaaaaaat." Erica singssongs.  
Derek feels his eyes go red and the whole pack whimpers in involuntary response. "So," Derek tries again, "I'm not locking you up tomorrow."  
"That's bound to go over well," Stiles mumbles sarcastically. Derek turns to glare at him. "Shutting up," the teenager says, raising his hands in surrender.  
Derek turns back to the pack. "Meet at Scott's after school," Derek says, "I want to see how long you can control yourselves without restraints."  
"Isn't making us hang at McCall's the same as locking us up?" Jackson grumbles and rolls his eyes.  
"Get out now," Derek says after a moment, "All of you. Bye." Stiles tries to slip out with the pack, but Derek grabs him by the collar of his plaid shirt. "Not you," he growls at his mate, "You stay."  
Once the door is shut behind the last person, Stiles says, "I'm really sorry, dude, seriou-"  
Derek silences him by spinning him around and kissing him softly. "That's for having my back." he breathes out. Then the alpha slams Stiles' boney body into a nearby wall. "And that," Derek snarls, "is for defying my authority in front of the pack."  
Stiles gasps for breath. "Like I said," he wheezes, "really sorry."  
"Don't do it again."  
Stiles slaps on a crooked smile. "What'll you to me if I do?"  
Derek lets the glare remain on his face a moment longer before giving into the urge to smile at his mate's lame attempt at seduction. "You're absurd."  
"Love me anyways?" Stiles questions, goofy grin still present on his face.  
"Yeah," Derek nods, "You imbecile."  
Stiles laughs because Derek's worse at compliments than he himself is at seduction. 

 

Derek lazily kisses Stiles' nose and clasps his hand over the one Stiles has lying between them. The younger boy makes a content noise in the back of his throat. "We should sleep," Derek whispers into the darkness.  
"No," Stiles protests even though his eyes are fluttering shut, "Want to have sex again."  
Derek rolls his eyes. "Sleep," he murmurs and wraps an arms around Stiles' hip, pulling the teenager closer, "Full moon tomorrow."


	2. Allegiance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey and Ian hit Beacon Hills..and Mickey lands them in the custody of the Sheriff who is tied to the pack. And it's a full moon.
> 
> Derek will wonder when this became his life when he can catch a breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo, there isn't any smug (it's coming, promise) and not a ton of fluff. I JUST GOT CAUGHT UP IN THE PACK FEELS OK
> 
> And a cliff hanger, muhahahaha.

"Beacon Hills," Ian sighs, "do you know a guy here too?"  
"No, smartass, that's the point," Mickey says, thumping his thumbs on the steering wheel of the Jeep he had stolen a few minutes ago. "No ties to Terry," he adds quietly.   
"Where'd you find this heap of junk anyway?" Ian questions as the car's breaks squeak.   
Mickey shrugs. "The highschool," he admits, "where you're gonna have to enroll, by the way."   
"I'm only going to school if you go too." The redhead smiles when Mickey doesn't protest. 

 

"What do you mean someone stole your car?!" Sheriff Stilinski shouts into his phone.   
Derek and Scott exchange looks as they hear Stiles explain that he came out from detention and the Jeep was gone. Derek groans inwardly. 'Just what we need on a full moon,' he thinks.   
"It was still there when I left," Scott offers to the sheriff.   
The sheriff glances at his watch. "They couldn't have gotten far," he tells Stiles and jumps to his feet, gesturing for Derek and Scott to follow him out the front door of the Stilinski house.   
As soon as they're out on the street, they're greeted with the sight of two guys climbing out of Stiles' Jeep.  
Derek doesn't even have to think; his instincts to protect and avenge his mate kick in and he tackles the dark-headed driver to the ground.   
"What the fuck?" the other guy yells before trying to pull Derek off of the driver, who's putting up more of fight than Derek anticipated. Unfortunately for him, though, Derek is an alpha and it's a full moon. The short car thief didn't stand much of a chance against him.  
"Alright," the sheriff says, as a way to stop the fifth punch to the guy's face, "Enough."   
Derek was too lost in his own vengeance to notice that the passenger of the car, a redheaded and muscular guy, had started scuffling with Scott on the pavement.   
"Scott," Derek barks and Scott immediately jumps off the taller teenager. He even offers a hand to him, but the ginger just spits out blood and gets to his feet. He bounces on the balls of his feet for a minute, as if he's expecting another fight, before hearing his companion groan. His expression shifts from aggressive to concerned and he runs to the dark-headed boys side.   
"Mickey?" he questions softly, cupping his head.   
Mickey opens his eyes slightly. "M'fine, Firecrotch."   
Derek feels his wolf whimper because it recognizes the look that's passing between the two teenagers in front of him because it's the exact look Stiles gives him. These boys are mates, human mates. It's a rare thing, for a bond between humans to match a bond only intended for werewolves to feel, and Derek allows himself to forget the situation for a moment as his alpha takes over.  
"I..," he hears Scott mumble next to him, "I need... Allison." Derek doesn't bother trying to stop him from running in the direction of his girlfriend's house.  
At that moment, Stiles runs up. "Is that my car?" he all but shouts, clapping Derek on the back, "Way to go, alpha!" Derek sweeps his mate into a hug and nuzzles his head into the crook of Stiles' neck. "You okay, Der?" Stiles questions as he rubs his hands over the werewolf's back, "what happened?"  
"What's going to happen," Sheriff Stilinski says, pulling the boy named Mickey to his feet, "is you're coming to the station and telling us why and how the hell you stole this car."  
"I did it," the redheaded boy states.   
"Shut the fuck up, Gallagher," Mickey quips at him. He turns to the sheriff, "he had nothing to do with it. Let him go."   
The man ignores them as he motions to Stiles. "Get the cuffs. Both sets."  
"No!" Mickey yells, "He didn't do anything!"  
"He was with you, kid. Makes him an accessory after the fact.  
"  
Derek studies the boys as they bicker under their breath, listening to talk of juvie and "not again" and "let me handle this, Firecrotch." Derek watches as the shorter boy stretches upwards to brush his lips against the redhead's cheek. He feels his wolf making a decision he can't stop. He only realizes his eyes have gone red when Stiles nudges him sharply in the ribs.   
"Sheriff," Derek starts after the teenagers are cuffed and sitting in the back if the squad car, "Don't seperate them."   
The sheriff adopts a quizzically look, but nods curtly before getting in the driver's seat and driving to the station.

 

"Okay, let me get this straight: you're from Chicago?" Mickey and Ian nods. "You're running from your homophobic father?" Mickey nods at this. "And you're settling in Beacon Hills." They nod again. "This is quite the story, boys," the Sheriff exhales, "and I believe every word of it. I'll see that Stiles doesn't press charges. You're free to go, but I'll be in touch. You need protection."  
Mickey shakes his head firmly. "No," he says, "I can protect us."  
"By running?" the Sheriff questions gently. "Consider me an ally, boys." The Sheriff offers his hand to Mickey. The brunette stares at it for a minute, his tongue wiggling in the corner of his mouth. He finally shakes the adult's hand, and finds himself asking whoever is running the show that this won't bite him in the ass. 

 

"Find an anchor," Derek commands, his face inches from Erica's as she tries to stop herself from morphing. Her eyes dart to Boyd, who's sitting across the room and already staring at her intently. She breathes out as her face returns to normal, the struggle lessening. "Good," the alpha says, moving away from her. He looks around the room that's littered with his tense pack and their mates.   
"How do you do it so easily?" Isaac asks through gritted teeth from his place on the floor, a scared-looking Danny sitting next to him. Derek glances at Stiles. "I mean before him," Isaac says.   
"Anger," Derek replies simply.  
"That doesn't work anymore?" Boyd questions.   
Derek shrugs. "I'm not angry anymore." Erica snorts. "For the most part," Derek adds.  
Isaac scrunches his hands into fists and growls as his control slips away from him. Danny scoots away from his boyfriend slowly. Derek puts a forceful hand on his back. "You can't do that."  
"No," Isaac gasps, almost completely shifted, "let him."   
"He's your anchor, Isaac, and your mate." Derek insists, "this is part of that." He looks at Danny expectantly.   
Danny gulps once before looking back to a still-struggling Isaac. He reaches down and takes the werewolf's now clawed hand and laces their fingers together. "I'm here," he whispers as Isaac starts to calm, "It's okay." Isaac looks at him, and he offers a weak smile.   
The blue-eyed boy's face shifts back to human before he kisses Danny lightly. "Thank you," he murmurs.   
"What are mates for?" Danny asks, smiling.   
Derek takes his eyes off the boys when he hears Sheriff Stilinski's squad car pull up.   
"Sorry I'm late," the sheriff calls as he comes in the house, "everyone, uh decent? I brought guests."  
Derek and Scott tense as they recognize the unfamiliar heartbeats. "Why the hell did you bring them?" Stiles whines at his father when he sees Mickey and Ian standing behind him. Ian puts a hand on Mickey's bicep when he clenches his fists.   
"Shut it, Stiles," the sheriff says simply. "Derek?" he questions, "A word?" He motions for the alpha to follow him. "Mickey, with me. Ian, stay here."  
"Gallagher goes where I go." Mickey says.   
"Hey," Scott reassures, "He's good here." He offers a handshake to the redhead. "Scott McCall. You pack a wicked punch, dude."   
Ian takes his hand. "Ian Gallagher," he provides, "So do you."   
Scott's introducing Ian around as Derek, Mickey and the sheriff leave the room. "This some kinda club?" Mickey snorts.  
Derek bites back a growl, reminding himself of the moment of intimacy he witnessed from this boy earlier, knowing this kid can't be all bad.   
"Cool it," the sheriff advises Mickey. He addresses Derek, "They need protection, pack protection; they don't want it, but they need it. He's the one running; he's the one."  
Derek feels his eyes flash red and everything clicks: the reason he had felt these boy's bond, why he hadn't snapped the kid's head off. The alpha's nostrils flare as he realizes exactly what's happening.  
Mickey and Ian need protection.  
Mickey and Ian need in the pack.   
Mickey Milkovich needs the bite.


	3. Packhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Werewolf!Mickey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally some smut!
> 
> And apparently, my writing is too rushed and not detail-oriented? Idk. But if you're gonna comment just to be rude/hurtful, could you not? Thanks. (:

"This is bullshit," Mickey states for the tenth time in a row like he thinks they're all ridiculous. Because he does. He crosses his arms across his chest defiantly and leans against the pillar behind him.  
Derek sighs. "Scott," he says expectantly. Scott looks to his alpha, questioningly. Derek nods.  
Scott growls low in his chest as he feels the familiar thrill of letting his wolf take over. He splays his clawed fingers dramatically. He tilts his head back and howls; the rest of the pack responds immediately without moving or thinking. Derek listens to Mickey's accelerating heartbeat and watches the bob of his adams apple as he processes the scene before him. Derek knows the rest of the group is morphing behind him. "Stop," he barks at them suddenly, "Out."   
They grumble collectively, but exit the abandoned wearhouse.  
"You want to fucking turn me," Mickey stutters, "into that thing?"  
"Look," Derek starts, edging closer to the younger boy, "The sheriff told me everything. I know you won't do this for you. So do it for him. You know they're going to come for you, and you know you can't protect him." Derek pauses as Mickey shifts uncomfortably under the alpha's gaze. He takes another step closer. "I can give you the power to ward off any threat. You'll be unstoppable. Especially with the pack behind you."  
Mickey's head snaps up at the last statement. He gets up in Derek's face. "Milkovich's don't need anybody," he snarls and turns to go.   
"You're not a Milkovich anymore, Mickey."  
Mickey only hesitates a second before yanking the door open and storming from the room. 

 

Mickey slams the door to their apartment so hard the windows shake. Ian rushes from their shared bedroom as Mickey plops on the couch. "Guessing it didn't go well?" he questions, sitting next to Mickey.  
"How much did that little fucker tell you?"  
"Who, Stiles? Everything." Ian pauses, "what'd Derek tell you?"  
"Just that he wants me in the..the.."  
"Pack," Ian finishes. "They're like a family, Mick. Erica reminds me of Mandy and-"  
"Can you not mention anything about Mandy, please?" Mickey mumbles.   
Ian nods. After a second, he says "so if you become a werewolf, I guess that makes us mates."   
Mickey lifts his head to look at the younger boy's grin. "What are mates?"

 

All Mickey has to say is "we're in," and the room erupts in cheers. Everyone is hugging Ian; they try to hug him, but the permanent scowl on his face makes them hesitate.   
Except for the blonde girl- Erica, Ian called her, the girl who acts like Mandy- who hugs him tighter than humanly possible and then even kisses his cheek. "We're just excited because we've already adopted your boyfriend," she explains, rustling Ian's hair.   
"He's not my boyfriend." Mickey says.  
"Please," Erica snorts, "He's already told us that you're a softie on the inside." She pokes Mickey in the ribs. Mickey glares at the redhead, who grins and ducks his head. "Besides," Erica continues, leaning in to whisper in Mickey's ear, "the fact that your heart stuttered over the word 'not' proves that he is." Mickey feels his eyes go wide as Erica winks at him and flounces back to her seat.  
"So how do we do this?" Mickey asks, taking out a cigarette and lighting it.   
"First off," Derek appears out of nowhere and snatches the stick from his lips, "no nicotene, alcohol or drugs. They make staying in control harder."   
"Not that alcohol will have any effect on you anymore," Boyd adds from his seat in the recliner.   
Mickey is still trying to process the fact that someone had the balls to take something from him. The entire pack tenses as they hear his heart pumping faster out of anger directed at their alpha. Ian places a hand on Mickey's shoulder. The shorter boy looks up at him and sighs, his heart rate immediately returning to normal.   
"Wow," Isaac breathes.   
The small noise seems to remind Ian and Mickey that they're not alone. "What?" the younger boy asks.  
"They've never seen human mates before," Derek explains.  
"Human mates?" Mickey says slowly.  
"Werewolves are programmed to bond with their partners in a way that humans can't." Derek adds, "Normally can't, I should say. Because the two of you are bonded."  
"Like we're 'meant to be' or some faggot bullshit?" Mickey scoffs, enjoying the looks of shock he gets.  
"Something like that," Derek says, unfased. "That's not relevant. Anyway, we'll do it now. Werewolves." The pack gets up to follow.  
Erica links her arm through Mickey's. "Come on, sweetie, we're gonna make you strong," she says and tugs him upstairs. 

 

"Getting fucked by a werewolf is awesome," Stiles says to Ian.Allison and Lydia nod; Danny blushes. "And full moons are amazing."  
"Why?" Ian asks.  
"Because they're horny," Lydia says like Ian should have known the answer.   
"Yeah," Allison turns to Ian, "but don't worry. The knot really doesn't hurt too bad."  
"But..uh," Ian says, unsure of how to handle this, "Mickey doesn't do the fucking."  
His three new friends pause, and then look at him one by one. "What?" Stiles asks, an amused look in his eye.  
"You top?" Danny asks incredulously.  
"Yeah," Ian answers.  
Stiles burst out laughing, and Ian feels slightly offeneded. "I'm sorry," Stiles gasps as his fit subsides, "You just don't seem like a top, dude. Sorry."  
"What's that suppose to mean?" Ian asks.  
"I think what Stiles means," Allison jumps in, "is that we just assumed Mickey did because you're really sweet and he's..."  
"Rude," Lydia offers.  
"A douchebag," Stiles suggests.   
"Self-assured," Allison says sternly, shooting a scolding look at her friends.   
At that moment, the pack comes bounding down the stairs.   
"You do know," Mickey says, crossing his arms, "that I can hear you now." Ian gasps when his lover's eyes flash ice blue.

 

"Fuck, Mickey," Ian gasps out.   
"You like that, Gallagher?" Mickey growls as he slams into Ian again.  
"Yes. Give it to me. Oh, shit." Ian looks up into the older boy's face. The fangs, hair and claws shouldn't turn the ginger on as much as they do. He calls Derek's words back to mind, 'it's like he was meant to be a werewolf.'   
Mickey leans down to scrape his sharp teeth against Ian's neck, the sensation making the younger teen come suddenly with Mickey close behind. Ian feels the swelling of Mickey's dick, and knows the knot is forming.   
"What the fuck," Mickey mumbles when he tries to pull out and can't.  
"Stop, Mick," Ian cries, "You'll hurt me."  
"What the hell is wrong with my dick?" Mickey yells and Ian tries not to laugh at the aghast expression on the face of the man above him.  
"It's called a knot," Ian explains, "we're mating."  
"They told you about it and not me?"  
Ian chuckles, "apparently."  
"So what do we fucking do about it?" Mickey questions.  
"Calm down. It'll go away on its own, we just gotta wait."   
"Fucking werewolves," Mickey mumbles. "I can't stay like this," he says and shifts around so he's sitting with Ian on his lap.  
"Better?" Ian asks, amused.  
Mickey snarls, "If I could shove you off right now, I would."  
Ian laughs heartily. He wraps his arms around Mickey's shoulders and pulls the older guy's head to his chest. "I missed this," he whispers.  
"Banging?" Mickey scoffs lightly.   
"That's not what I meant and you know it."  
"I know," Mickey says, draping his arms around Ian's back, "Me too, kid." He tilts his head up and catches the redhead's lips in a kiss. 

 

Derek pulls back from Stiles abruptly, his eyes fading to alpha color. "What?" Stiles asks, "what's wrong?"  
Derek sniffs the air. "I don't," Derek tries, "I..." He pushes his mate off his lap and moves to the window.  
"Gee, way to make me feel wanted." Stiles grumbles. Derek ignores him. "Hello," Stiles says loudly, "emotionally wounded and horny teenage boy here."  
"Shut up," Derek hisses, glancing back. "Please," he adds.  
"Well, when you say it like that," Stiles says sarcastically. He moves to the window, looking out.   
"Mickey and Ian are coming back," Derek says.  
"Good, great," Stiles says, "Can we go back to more important things?" The teeanger wraps his arms around Derek's waist and nips at his ear.  
"Stiles," Derek warns, leaning back into his mate's touch out of habit.   
"Yes?"  
"You're being distracting."  
"That's the point, sourwolf." Stiles says, nudging Derek's neck with his nose before kissing it gently.   
"I hate when you call me that."  
Stiles chuckles at the blatant lie. "You love it."  
"Really trying to focus here," the alpha lies again, a smile spreading on his face.   
"Focus on me." Stiles whines.   
Derek turns and rolls his eyes, putting his hands on Stiles' hips to pull him in. "You're such a child," he berates as he buries his head in the teenager's neck. The kiss he plants on Stiles' shoulder silences whatever witty comeback he had on his tongue.   
Suddenly the door to Stiles' room bursts open to reveal an out-of-breath Scott. "Derek," he gasps, "You gotta...come now! It's..Ian.. His scent is...making us shift."

 

"Him, out. Now," Derek commands, eyes shining red.  
"Who, Gallagher? No way." Mickey looks at the pack, strewn across the floor of the Stilinski living room and obviously struggling despite the presence of their mates. "What's their fucking problem?"   
"He is," Derek says firmly, "Your scents mixed together are making them want to claim him."  
Ian's eyes widen. "Claim me?"  
"What the hell does that mean?" Mickey demands angrily, already knowing the answer.  
"It's a werewolf thing. He needs to go," Derek insists.  
"He's not going anywhere," Mickey almost snarls.  
"He's a liability," Derek shouts.  
"And what the fuck is he?" Mickey yells back, gesturing Stiles who had just fallen over because Boyd was growling.  
"Stiles is my mate," Derek grinds out.  
"And Ian's mine," Mickey shouts.  
"You mated?" Derek asks in a low voice. Mickey nods curtly. "Without my permission?" Derek hollers at him.  
"I didn't know I needed it!" Mickey could feel his anger at the whole ludicrous situation rising, "Because you've told me fuck all!"  
Derek breathes in, willing himself to calm down. "He needs to go," the alpha repeats evenly.  
"He goes, I go."  
"You're bound to me, to this pack."  
"I'm bound to Ian!"  
"You're in this for protection. The pack can't protect you if you're not here."  
"Without him, there's no one to protect."  
Derek feels his eyebrows shoot up. "Yourself?"  
Mickey shrugs. "Not important." He glances at his packmates, who have begun to calm down.   
"We're not turning our back on them, Derek." Scott says from his seat on the couch, his face human now. The rest of the pack nods their agreement. Scott stands and goes to Mickey, offering his hand. "We're brothers."   
Derek isn't the only one who looks surprised when Mickey takes the hand, and even allows Scott to pull him into a hug.


	4. Familiarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey starts to warm up to the pack after his first day of training.
> 
> Being alpha puts a strain on Derek and Stiles' relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gettin' lost in the pack feeeeeels.

Stiles grunts as he thrusts his hips into Derek's fist. The teenager looks up at his mate. "Dude, you're not even looking at me."  
Derek blinks. "Sorry," he mumbles and tightens his hold on Stiles' cock.   
Stiles bats his hand away. "Forget it," he says, rolling over and getting to his feet. He grabs Derek's clothes off the floor, throwing them over his shoulder onto his bed. "You should go." Stiles steps into his boxers and yanks them up.  
"Stiles," Derek starts.  
"Don't."  
Derek stands, rejecting the idea of putting clothes on because he's still got his boxers on. He walks closer to his mate. "I'm sorry," he says softly, "Come here." He starts to pull Stiles into a hug, but the teen pushes his arms away.  
"No," Stiles shouts, "Look, I get that you're stressed, but if you could actually be with me when you're, ya know, with me, that'd be great."  
Derek runs a hand through his hair and sighs. "Stiles-"  
"If you're gonna make excuses, just go."  
"Will you just-"  
"Go!" Stiles yells.  
Derek stands with his mouth open, shocked because Stiles has never rejected him before. The alpha moves to Stiles' bed, pulling on his shirt and jeans quickly. He pauses by the door, his hand on the knob, and turns to Stiles. "I'm sorry. You're right: you should come first." Stiles crosses his arms over his bare chest and turns his head away. "I love you," Derek whispers so quietly that Stiles almost doesn't hear him. He opens the door and leaves the teeanger alone in the room. 

 

"Derek," Scott says again.   
The alpha jolts out of his thoughts and forces himself to look away from Stiles, who's standing across the room and looking everywhere but directly at him. They hadn't talked for two days. Derek hadn't had a decent night's sleep for just as long. This was the first time they'd seen each other, and Stiles was only there because Derek had called a bogus pack meeting just to get him on the same room as his mate. "What?" he says to Scott.   
"We can start now. Mickey's here."   
"What the fuck we doing anyway?" the brunette questions, ever insubordinate.   
"Training," Isaac grumbles.   
"What kind of training?" Ian asks.  
"Werewolf training," Jackson scoffs, "what else."  
Mickey narrows his eyes at the jock, scowling. He decides he doesn't like this guy.   
"Don't do that," Scott murmurs, coming along beside him.  
"Do what?  
"Don't write him off. He's not actually a jackass."  
"Can hear you perfectly," Jackson mumbles absentmindedly from across the room, not even bothering to look up from the book he's reading.   
Scott rolls his eyes goodnaturedly. "Anyway," he says to Mickey, "Training isn't so bad. We just gotta try to take Derek down."  
Mickey shrugs and cracks his knuckles, smug smirk forming on his face. "Shouldn't be too hard."  
"Don't count on it," Isaac joins in, "He's in a bad mood today."  
Mickey snorts.   
Derek's eyes flash red when he smells Mickey's aggression. "Milkovich!" he barks, "you're first."  
Behind Mickey, Ian mumbles, "Oh, this I gotta see."

 

Mickey grunts as he hits the floor and the air gets knocked from his lungs. Again.  
Maybe he could do it if Gallagher and Erica would stop laughing. Or if Jackson would stop fucking looking at him like he couldn't do anything. He jumps into a crouch and growls at Derek.  
"You're too angry," Derek criticises, "Harness that; make it work for you." Mickey lunges for his throat, but the alpha easily dodges the move, causing Mickey to land on the floor again. "You're not thinking enough. You're being impulsive. Use more of your head and less of your instincts. You have to-"  
Derek's words are cut off by someone tackling him to the ground from behind. Before he can even blink, Mickey is standing over him. He spits on the ground next to Derek's head and grins cockily. "Like that?" he asks as applause bursts out from across the room.   
"Wahoo!" Erica shouts, clapping her hands over her head. Scott and Isaac grin as they clap. Even Stiles looks impressed. Mickey decides they're not so bad. Ian is grinning ear to ear; Mickey shoots him a lopsided grin.   
"Not bad," Derek says, getting to his feet and squeezing the newest werewolf's shoulder, "not bad at all."  
Mickey feels a warm feeling spreading in his chest, and somehow knows it's coming from his alpha. It feels an awful lot like pride.

 

"So, Mickey," Erica starts as they're eating that night at Scott's, "who do you like best?"  
Mickey chuckles around a mouthful of pizza. "I hate all of you."  
"Lie," Scott says.  
"So," Erica says, shoving his shoulder, "who is it?" He studies everyone a moment before pointing a finger at her. She grins. "Why?"  
He glances at Ian, who nods encouragingly. "You remind me of my sister," he admits quietly.   
"Older or younger?" Scott asks after a moment.  
"Younger," Mickey says, "By a year. She's independent, doesn't let anyone fuck with her." He pauses before adding, "she's a good kid."  
"Got any other siblings?" Erica asks.  
Mickey shrugs. "Two brothers. Fucktwits. Gallagher's the one with a shit ton of siblings."  
"How many?" Scott asks Ian. The ginger holds up his hand with all his fingers spread. "Five?" Scott questions, incredulous. Ian nods.  
"What are their names?" Isaac asks.  
Ian swallows the food in his mouth. "Fiona's the oldest. Lip is Mickey's age. Then comes me. And then Debbie, Carl and Liam."  
"Wow," Scott says. "We're all only children," he adds, motioning around the room at Isaac, Stiles, Erica, Allison, Boyd, Lydia, Danny and Jackson. He pauses when he gets to Derek, "well, except for..."  
The alpha stiffens and stands, marching towards the bathroom. Stiles follows him with his gaze, and gets up after a minute to go after him.   
"What's his problem?" Mickey asks after an uncomfortable minute.  
"It's a long story," Scott mumbles. No one offers to tell it.

 

"Hey," Stiles says, pulling the door closed behind him. Derek is standing at the sink, clutching at the porcelain with his head dropped between his arms. "I just wanted to make sure you're okay," Stiles murmurs lamely. Derek doesn't respond. "So are you?" Stiles tries again, "Okay, I mean. Are you okay?" Derek breathes in slowly. "Well.." Stiles says, "Guess I'll be going."  
"Wait," Derek says, turning to face the human, "Just.." He steps forward. He hesitantly puts a hand on Stiles' hip. "Can I..." he trails off, "I mean, are you still..." He looks at his mate, silently asking a million questions.   
Stiles sighs, "it's fine."   
Derek yanks him forward and wraps his arms securely around his lower back. Stiles drops his forearms onto Derek's shoulders, pushing one hand into the werewolf's hair and using his other hand trace small circles on Derek's back. Derek sighs and buries his head into Stiles' neck. "I miss you," he whispers, his words muffled.  
Stiles hugs him harder. "I miss you too."  
Derek kisses his neck. "I'm sorry."  
"I know," Stiles cooes, "I know. It's okay."   
They stay as they are for a really long time, but it still feels like too soon when Derek pulls away. "We should go back out there," he whispers, his face so close to his mate's that their noses bump.   
"Yeah," Stiles agrees softly, but neither of them move. Derek closes the small gap, pressing his firm lips to Stiles' soft ones. Stiles opens his mouth and the alpha seizes the opportunity by licking into the teen's mouth. Stiles whimpers embarrassingly before sucking on Derek's tongue.  
Derek pulls back a little, breathing through his nose. Stiles sees his eyes dialate as he smells the younger boy's arousal. He releases Stiles' hips and reaches for the door.  
"We can't go out now," Stiles whispers harshly, "They'll smell me."  
"It will go away."   
"Dereeeek," Stiles whines.   
"If I do anything, the smell will be worse." Stiles crosses his arms. Derek chuckles, "are you pouting?" Stiles nods, jutting out his lower lip. Derek shakes his head. "You are such a child," he mumbles affectionately as he drops to his knees, taking Stiles' pants with him.

 

As they're leaving, Erica stops him. "Hey, Mick." she calls, running to him and practically tackling him to the ground.  
"What the fuck," he grumbles, ready to throw her off.  
"I'm sorry you had to leave your sister. I can tell you really love her." she mumbles into his hair.  
"Uh, thanks." he whispers. And if he hugs her back, well, it's only because she reminds him of Mandy. He isn't starting to like her or some shit like that.

 

Ian rolls off Mickey with a grunt and reaches blindly for the cigarette and lighter he left on the nightstand. He's got it lit and between his lips before Mickey snatches it. "If I can't, you can't." the older boy says, putting it out on his hand with a grimace.   
"Doesn't that hurt?"  
Mickey shrugs. "Only for a second. See." He holds up the hand in question so Ian can watch the skin grow back over the burn.   
Ian grabs his hand and studies it. "Cool," he says. After a second, he asks "Erica's growing on you, huh?"  
Mickey snorts. "She's okay."  
"Why do you think they picked you?"  
Mickey turns his head, his werewolf vision helping him see Ian clearly. He smirks smugly. "Jealous?"  
Ian shrugs. "No, just curious."  
"Sheriff said I'm the one running, so I needed it more."  
"I'm running too."  
Mickey is quiet for a second before he says, "Only because of me" softly.  
Ian turns his body on his side, facing Mickey. "I chose to come with you, Mick. I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be." Mickey nods. Ian scoots closer, putting his head on the his mate's chest.  
"The fuck are you doing, Gallagher?" Mickey grumbles noncommittally.   
"You were good today," Ian murmurs a few minutes later before he falls asleep.  
Mickey lets himself remember the look on Derek's face after he knocked him down: shocked but also really satisfied, like the new werewolf had done exactly what he wanted even though he hadn't been expecting it. Mickey grins. "I was, wasn't I."


	5. Madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey is still having trouble letting Ian in, so Ian turns to Stiles for help.
> 
> The pack plans a camping trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON
> 
> This chapter is intense, guys. Just a warning.

The first thing Mickey is aware of when he wakes up is that Ian is thumbing lazy circles on his stomach. The next is the way the redhead smiles up at him. "Morning," he says through his grin. Mickey grunts in response, not quite awake. Ian shifts around until he's directly above Mickey, propping himself on his elbows. "Wake up," the ginger whispers.   
"Fuck off," Mickey mumbles, but it lacks conviction.   
Ian ducks his head down to ghost his lips over Mickey's. He looks into the brunette's eyes, questioning, wanting this to be okay. Mickey glances from Ian's eyes to his mouth and back again. He doesn't bother hesitating; he jerks his head up enough to kiss Ian gently. The redhead opens his mouth, and invites Mickey in, moaning when the older man's tongue collides with his own. They keep this up for awhile, but it's different from their other kisses because they aren't fighting; they're working together. After a bit, Mickey breaks it off. Both boys are panting slightly. Ian moves, mouthing at Mickey's jawline. "D'you want me?" Ian asks, almost too softly for even werewolf hearing.   
Mickey tips his head up and groans as Ian flicks his tongue over his adams apple, hoping that would be answer enough. Apparently it isn't because Ian says, "Mick?"  
"What?" the werewolf grunts out.   
Ian kisses his mate firmly on the neck before scraping his teeth over the sensitive spot under Mickey's jaw. "Do you want me?" he repeats, emphasizing each word. He licks the same spot, causing Mickey to squirm beneath him.   
"Fuck," the brunette spits out.  
"Answer me," Ian says, grinding his hips down and enjoying the groan that escapes Mickey's lips.  
"Jesus Christ," Mickey gasps, feeling his eyes cross at the blissful friction as Ian repeats his movement.   
"Is that a yes?" Ian asks because he wants to hear it, needs to hear his mate admit that he's desperate for this, for Ian.  
"Yes," Mickey chokes, his voice wrecked,"yes, want you. Now."  
Ian grins, rolling off Mickey to grab the lube from the floor. "Umm," Ian hums.  
"What?" Mickey barks.  
"Where's the lube?"  
"You've got to be fucking joking," Mickey groans in frustration.  
Ian stands, rummaging through all the clothes that had been thrown haphazardly the night before. He shrugs before moving back to the bed and on top of Mickey. "I'll use spit," he says.   
"Just forget it," Mickey grumbles and shoves the redhead off him. He needs to get away from Ian because it feels too close, like Ian can see straight through him.  
Ian sighs. Mickey had been pushing him away since they mated. Because he's a true Milkovich and all Milkoviches know how to do is run. "You know," Ian says, following Mickey into their kitchen, "you can't keep doing this."  
"Doing what?" Mickey scoffs, not looking away from his bowl, like pouring cereal requires all his concentration.  
"Pushing me away because you're scared I'm going to find something I don't like."  
Mickey stills at that because he'd forgotten for a second that Ian can feel everything he feels now. He runs a hand over his face. Fucking werewolves. He looks at Ian, but says nothing. The redhead crosses his arms over his still-bare chest, and Mickey tries not to smirk at that. Ian had always held his ground against Mickey, which had been annoying at first, but was now endearing and kind of hot.   
"I'm never going anywhere, Mick." Ian whispers, his expression softening slightly. And Mickey listens to his heartbeat, straining to hear that tell-tale blip that indicates a lie, but it doesn't happen. Because Ian isn't lying. And Mickey can't deal with that, with honesty and with the love and affection that's always shining in Ian's eyes when Mickey searches them.   
In Mickey's world, everyone lies just because they can;there doesn't have to be a reason. Mickey can handle someone lying to him, he's used to it. But he doesn't know how to respond to honesty. And Ian is always honest with him. He breaks off the gaze he'd been holding with the ginger. His tongue flicks out the side of his mouth. "It's too early for this shit," he mumbles and moves into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind him. 

 

"Stiles."   
Stiles groans slightly and rolls over as his dream slips away. "No," he whines softly, mentally grasping at it.  
"Stiles," someone is whispering, their breath hot on his ear and their hands roaming over his torso.  
"Still sleeping," he mumbles, trying to scoot away.   
"Time to get up," Derek whispers and pulls Stiles' back into his frontside.   
"No," Stiles says, "Dreaming."  
Derek chuckles and nips at the back of Stiles' neck. "I need you awake."  
"Too bad. No morning sex for you."  
Derek chuckles again, the vibrations running through Stiles' body due to their closeness. "I wasn't meaning for sex."  
Stiles flops around so he's facing the alpha. "Fine," he grumbles," I'm awake. What is so freaking important?"  
Derek cups his chin, and pulls his face closer before planting a soft kiss on his lips. "Hi," he breathes when they pull apart.   
"Hi," Stiles mimicks, a little taken aback, "What was that for?"  
Derek shrugs. "Love you."   
"Love you too."  
"Sorry I woke you," Derek says, stroking Stiles' cheek with the back of his hand.  
"Sorry I was an ass about it," Stiles replies, nuzzling into his mate's touch. "When did you get here?"   
Derek shrugs again. "It's been awhile."  
Stiles lets his eyes flutter shut. "Missed you last night."  
"Did you sleep okay?"   
Stiles nods. "Like a baby."  
"Lie," Derek mumbles.  
"Let me sleep now then."   
"Okay," Derek whispers and kisses his forehead as he drifts off again. 

 

It's Erica's idea- of course, Allison and Lydia love it- of course, and Scott loves it because Allison does- of course. Jackson, though, has to be elbowed solidly in the ribs before he says that he too thinks it's great. Boyd is behind it because, well, because it's Erica's idea. Isaac doesn't care either way, so neither does Danny. Stiles is all for it. Derek and Mickey are the only ones completely against it; Derek because the full moon is coming and Mickey because he's in a bad mood and feels like disagreeing. Ian doesn't offer an opinion on the subject at all.   
A camping trip.   
"It's not happening," Derek repeats.   
"We'll need tents and sleeping bags," Erica rambles as if the alpha hadn't spoken, "And we should take fishing poles!"  
"You don't even know how to fish," Boyd points out.  
"Don't spoil my fun," Erica counters, bumping her shoulder against him happily.   
"We're not going camping," Derek says loudly.   
"Oh, come on, Der," Stiles whines, lacing his arms around his mate's shoulders, "It would be fun."  
Derek glares down at the teenager. He addresses the pack, "you cannot handle yourselves enough to be in public this close to a full moon."  
"We'll be miles away from civilization," Stiles says. He pushes out his bottom lip, "Pleeeeease."  
"You are a child," Derek growls at Stiles. And Stiles grins because that's as good as a yes. Everyone starts talking at once. "Werewolves still have to train today." They all grumble. "Humans plan, werewolves train; that's the deal."   
"But it was my idea," Erica says.   
"She has a point," Stiles says, earning a red-eyed glare from the alpha, "Shutting up."

 

Lydia settles on the couch in the old train car with a notepad and pen, tucking her feet underneath her. Stiles plops next to her, Allison on the other side of him. Danny sits in the chair across from them. Ian leans against the doorway.   
"Okay," Lydia starts, "What do we need?"  
"Food," Stiles immediately says.  
"A little more specific?" Lydia rolls her eyes as she speaks.  
They list things for a few minutes before they all one-by-one notice that a particular redhead isn't talking.   
"Yo," Stiles shouts suddenly, making them all jump, "Earth to Ian." Ian just looks at him. "What's up, dude?"  
Ian shrugs. "Mickey..." he trails off, shaking his head.  
Stiles jumps up. "Come on," he says, wrapping a friendly arm around the ginger's shoulder and steering him from the room, "Emotionally constipated werewolves are my speciality."

 

Stiles drags Ian through the warehouse- and right into the middle of werewolf training.   
"Stop!" Derek yells to his fighting betas.  
"Hey, thanks," Stiles says to him, "Didn't want to lose a limb."  
"What the hell are you doing?" Mickey asks them, eyes trained on Ian.  
"Need some fresh air," Stiles says and pulls Ian out the door.   
"That was a lie," Isaac says, which is pointless because they all already heard it.   
Mickey feels his wolf growl jealously and his eyes flash.   
"Leave it," Derek snaps.

 

"He just doesn't listen to me!" Ian says, kicking at a rock after he's confided what had happened that morning, "It's like as soon as he realizes he's let me farther in, he runs before I can. But I'm not going to."  
Stiles nods understandingly. "Derek was the same way for awhile."  
"How did you get him to stop?"  
Stiles shrugs. "I didn't let him push me away. I crowded in; hung on and refused to let go. He eventually got the message."  
Ian plops on the ground, resting his elbows on his knees. "It's been two years, he should have gotten the message already."  
"The thing with loving someone who's broken is that you can't just tell them you'll stick around; you've gotta show it, dude." Stiles looks down at him pointedly.   
Ian sets his jaw. "What are you saying?"  
"Mickey pushed you away this morning, and what did you do? You backed off. You went away."  
Ian's head snaps up with realization. He's on his feet and running back to the wearhouse in a matter of seconds.

 

Ian marches back into the room, and Mickey can smell determination on him. He walks straight to the older boy, ignoring the fights happening around him. The ginger grabs Mickey's hips and smashes against him, crushing their lips together simultaneously. Although Mickey is caught off guard, it doesn't take long for him to respond by grabbing the back of Ian's neck. After a minute or two, Ian pulls back.   
"What-" Mickey starts.  
"You're not getting rid of me so easily," Ian says forcefully, "Or ever. I love you." He kisses Mickey firmly one last time before turning to leave. He shoots Derek a sarcastic "sorry" with a smirk.   
Stiles whoops from his spot at the entrance of the wearhouse. "That's right," he shouts, "Chalk one up for Stiles the relationship counselor." He holds up a hand to Ian, who shakes his head and allows Stiles to pull him into a one-armed hug before going into the other room.  
"What was that about?" Derek asks Mickey.  
Mickey ducks his head and runs his thumb over his bottom lip,hiding a smirk. "Nothing."

 

Derek decides taking a group of unruly teenagers to a department store is the single worst decision he's ever made, and that's seriously saying something.   
"We don't need that," he says to whatever Stiles has just thrown over his shoulder into the shopping cart Derek is pushing.   
"You've said that about everything," Stiles quips without turning around. He stops suddenly, and Derek accidently bumps into him. "You know," the teenager says, turning to face his mate with a grin, "I like you pushing that cart, very domestic."   
Derek rolls his eyes. "Let's go find everyone else," he mumbles and attempts to walk past Stiles.   
"Wait," Stiles says, reaching out to pull Derek closer.  
They're interrupted by a shout of "fags" from down the aisle. Stiles doesn't look, wanting to kiss Derek in front of them just to make them uncomfortable. But Derek isn't looking at him anymore; he's staring intently at the old man that yelled at them. "Just ignore him, Der," Stiles says.   
Derek shakes his head. "There's more than one," he says quietly, as if to himself, "They smell like.." He sniffs the air again and his eyes flash alpha. "Where's the pack?" he whispers sharply, looking back down at Stiles.   
Like on cue, they all come around the corner. "Hey, Derek," Scott starts before seeing his alpha's face.   
"What's wrong?" Isaac asks.  
"It's nothing," Stiles says, "Those guys-"  
The pack sniffs the air and tenses, all of their eyes flashing. Erica shoves Mickey behind her and growls.   
"The fuck?" Mickey asks, pushing her back.   
"Mickey, it's-" Scott whispers.  
The man's eyes lock on Mickey's, and Mickey gasps.   
"Will someone tell me what the hell is going on?" Stiles says.  
"It's my dad," Mickey breathes, and he feels his entire world crashing down.


	6. Showdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey must decide what to do with his father and brothers after him. And the pack is behind, one hundred percent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHH
> 
> Comment, comment, comment!!!

Mickey blinks repeatedly, willing the image of his father and brothers smirking nastily at him away. "Get Firecrotch outta here," he snarls. He splays his hands, claws extended, and lets his eyes flash. He moves to step towards his family- his old family, intent on ripping Terry's windpipe from his neck, when Derek places a firm hand on his shoulder.   
Derek shakes his head firmly when Mickey looks up. "Not here," he says firmly under his breath. The alpha blinks, eyes going red, and Mickey feels his wolf submitting, but his human side- the side that's still a Milkovich- resists, wanting to solve the problem with violence because that's all he knows. He doesn't want to need anyone. He looks to his packmate, wolves and humans alike. Erica is crouched, fangs extended. Scott and Isaac match her stance. Jackson's eyes are his sapphire green wolf color, even though his posture is casual. Boyd's lips are curled in a growl, claws tapping lightly on the shelf beside him. Even the humans are ready for a fight: Allison has her fingers wrapped around something that's hidden in her boot, Stiles and Lydia are both sending dangerous looks down the aisle. Ian is bouncing on his feet, jaw set, fists bunched at his sides. Even Danny seems liable to jump in if he's needed. Mickey does need them, all of them. They're his new family.  
He observes this in the same amount of time it takes a human to breathe. He looks back at Terry.   
Because all of this has taken less than a minute to transpire, his father is still grinning at him. Mickey knows, from years of painful experience, that Terry smiling is never good.  
"It's up to you, Mickey," Scott is growling around his sharpened teeth.   
"Following your lead," Boyd agrees in a low but sinister voice.   
Mickey steps in front of Derek, shrugging off the alpha's hand. He narrows his eyes at the Milkoviches and growls audibly. His brothers flinch, but Terry just look amused. Mickey's werewolf ears pick up on the way the old man's heart flutters in fear, though, and he grins right back. Terry lets the emotion flit across his face then, confused and frightened at whatever advantage Mickey has.   
The werewolf glances over his shoulder, searching for his mate. Their eyes lock, and Ian nods, a comforting scent reaching Mickey's nose. Without another look towards his former family, he says "not here" in a firm voice and beelines to the redhead, dragging him by his shirt collar the short distance to the door and around the corner into an alley. He buries his head shamelessly in the crook of Ian's neck and rests his arms around the ginger's hips. "Need you," he mumbles.  
Ian's hand locks in his hair, the other arm wrapped across his back. "Right here, Mick." He lets his lips graze over the brunette's hairline. "Always right here," he says it so quietly that he wonders if even a werewolf could pick it up.   
Mickey nuzzles him gently, moving up a bit to kiss his jaw because he heard. And he knew it already. 

 

"What's the plan?" Scott asks as soon as the wearhouse door is shut.   
Derek looks up, an answer on his lips, but he pauses when he sees Scott wasn't addressing him. He was addressing Mickey. Derek's alpha growls, something Mickey must have felt because he's the only one looking Derek's way.   
"We're doing whatever Derek says we're doing," Mickey says, holding Derek's gaze, forcing the words out.  
The pack acknowledges him then, everyone settling in with their mates in reach. Stiles decides to plop right in his lap. Derek rolls his eyes, ready to dump the teeanger on the floor when he notices the look on his face. Stiles is upset about something. The realization makes his wolf whimper, and he locks a tight arm around Stiles. "What's wrong?" he asks.  
Stiles opens his mouth, then glances at the pack and shakes his head.   
"Alright," Derek says to the pack, "Mickey, what do you want us to do?"  
Mickey looks up from where he'd been staring at his grip on Ian's hand. The redhead is perched on the arm of the couch, legs draped over Mickey's lap and a hand dug into his hair. "I don't know," Mickey admits.  
"Why did you guys run away anyway?" Erica asks.  
Ian looks aghast. "You don't know?"  
Everyone shakes their heads, except for Derek because the Sheriff had told him.  
Mickey blows out a breath, looking at the floor. Ian tightens his fingers in the dark hair, and Mickey looks up at him. Ian gives him a half-smile and Derek can smell the affection oozing out of the redhead. The smell is overpowered a moment later by Mickey's own odor of trust. "My dad," Mickey chokes after a minute, "He, uh.. He caught me and Gallagher, you know. And he.."   
"S'okay, Mick." Ian whispers to him when his voice breaks.  
Mickey shakes his head. "No," he whispers, "it isn't." He locks eyes with his mate again, and they have a complete conversation in that one glance. He clears his throat, adressing the pack again. "When he caught us, he beat the shit out of us. Pistol whipped me. Made some whore fuck me. Made Ian watch." The words come out casual, like he was talking about the weather, but his voice trembles over the last sentence. "So we left," he exhales and shrugs.   
"He's dead," Erica grinds out after the pack lets the story settle in. And no one argues because if there is anyone who deserves to die, it's Terry Milkovich.   
"Do you want him dead, Mickey?" Derek asks him.  
Mickey looks surprised at the question. "I don't know. He's my dad."  
And Derek nods because he gets it. He knows what it's like to love someone who's toxic and not understand why.

 

They're the only ones in the wearhouse because apparently Boyd and Erica can't get take out on their own, so Isaac and Danny volunteer to go with them and Scott doesn't want them forgetting what he wants, so Allison has to go too, and Lydia won't stay behind without her and Jackson rufuses to stay without Lydia.   
So Stiles, Mickey, Derek and Ian sit in an uncomfortable silence.   
Stiles jumps up suddenly, extending his hand to Derek and dragging the alpha out of the train car and into the actual wearhouse.  
"We have to kill him, Derek." he hisses through his teeth when they're on the other side of the room.  
Derek rolls his eyes. "He can still hear you, Stiles." Stiles opens his mouth, but Derek cuts him off. "It's up to him. It's his family; he should get to decide."  
Stiles softens at that because if he knows Derek as well as he thinks he does- and he does- he knows the alpha is thinking of his family, thinking he wished he could have decided with them, knowing what he would've decided. Giving Mickey the chance he never had.   
Stiles steps closer to his mate, backing him against a wall. "Hey," he says softly, "Have I told you I love you today?"  
Derek purses his lips thoughtfully. "Hmm," he pretends to think, "I don't think so, no."  
"Well, shame on me. Because I do."  
Derek smiles down at him, hands settling on his mate's hips. "Yeah?"   
Stiles nods enthusiastically, and wraps his arms around Derek's neck. "A lot, actually. You're pretty awesome with your muscles and eyebrows and cheekbones."  
Derek rolls his eyes again, but the smile doesn't leave his face. "Those are the reasons you love me?"  
"You didn't let me finish," Stiles scolds, leaning on Derek with his head on his shoulder, "You're caring and thoughtful." He pauses to kiss Derek's neck. "Intelligent." Kisses his jaw. "Funny." Plants a kiss on his cheek. "Charming. Hey! You're blushing." He smiles proudly.  
Derek ducks his head, a protest on his tongue, but it's interrupted by a crash at the door.   
And the Milkoviches are in the wearhouse. With guns. 

 

Terry shoots Derek in the arm first, which just makes Derek chuckle because who the hell cares? He heals faster than it the takes the old man to reload. Mickey and Ian come rushing in at the sound and a bullet flies towards Mickey, but he grabs it before it makes contact. "Cute," he quips at his dad.  
"What the fuck?" Terry yells.   
"Stiles, Ian, other room," Derek orders.  
"Hell no," both boys snarl out, clenching their fists.   
Derek steps towards the intruders, motioning towards their firearms. "Might as well put those away; they won't do you any good." Then he takes one to the chest.

 

"Oh, holy God," Stiles mumbles at the sight of his mate crumbling. Chest wounds always take a couple of hours to heal. He ducks as a bullet whizzes past him.   
"So," Terry says happily, "aim for the chest then."  
Mickey's the next one down.

 

"Fucking hell," Ian cries out.   
"I'm fine," Mickey says, "Help Stiles." Ian hesitates. "Go!"  
Ian runs to the other side, grabbing an unconscious Derek's arm and helping Stiles drag him behind a piece of metal. He glances back, seeing that Mickey has managed to crawl out of the way.   
"Yo," Stiles yells beside him. He tosses a bat Ian's way, and the redhead catches it midair.   
Ian grins. "Let's fucking do this."

 

Gasping for air, Ian evaluates the situation. It'd taken all of five minutes to disarm Mickey's brothers and they were fighting now hand-to-hand. His ROTC training helped, and he was surprised Stiles wasn't struggling at all. He spins and crotches, avoiding a punch. He swings the bat and grins at the unpleasant crack of wood on bone. He stands and smacks the guy at his feet unconscious.   
Stiles looks over from where he may or may not have just killed Iggy. Blood seeps from the boy's head and Ian doesn't hold out much hope for him.   
Stiles and Ian make eye contact and nod. They square up, shoulder to shoulder, clenching their weapons and glare at Terry.  
"Leave," Stiles growls, "And we won't kill you."  
Terry snorts. "This doesn't concern you, boy."  
Stiles laughs. "Well, I have a habit of pushing myself into situations where I'm not wanted."   
"Who are you anyway?"  
"That doesn't concern you," Stiles mimicks and tacks "boy" on it, just for accuracy. "You made it my concern when you shot my boyfriend."  
Terry blanches at 'boyfriend.' "This is between me and my son," he roars at Ian, gun pointed, "it isn't your business either, you ass digger."  
"It became my business," Ian grits out through his teeth, "when you made me watch the love of my life get raped." He yells the last words, and lunges at Terry, bat poised for a crack to the head. But he doesn't get the chance.  
The gun goes off.   
Terry laughs heartily.  
But the last thing Ian registers is Mickey's hands on his face, yelling his name. "Gallagher. Gallagher!"  
And then everything is black.


	7. Botheration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey deals with the information that Ian may never wake up. 
> 
> The pack looks for a way around Derek's orders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me!!!

Mickey digs his fingers into the extra denim bunched around his knees. "What do you mean he might not make it?" The words sound like an angry snarl in his head, but they come out a defeated whimper.  
"We're very sorry, Mr. Milkovich." And then the doctor is gone, leaving Mickey alone in the room with coma-Ian and the steady beep of his heart monitor.   
He drops his forehead to his hands. After a moment, he looks up and moves to stand next to Ian's eerily still body. He takes the redhead's hand in his own. "Can you hear me in there, Firecrotch?"  
The beeping of the monitor escalates slightly, and he hears Ian's breath catch. He leans over, face inches from his mate's. "Need you to wake up, kid. You said you'd always be here, and you're fucking sticking to that, whether you like it or not." He pauses and takes a deep breath. "Don't be like everyone else, Gallagher. Don't leave me here alone. Don't die." He whispers the last part, like it's a prayer. And maybe it is, but Mickey doesn't know who hes praying to. And even if he did, they've already made it pretty damn clear that they're not listening. 

 

Stiles nudges Derek awake with his foot. "What?" Derek grunts.  
"Morning," Stiles sates groggily, rubbing his eyes, "It's morning. Morning is when we get up. Morning is when we drink coffee. Oh, coffee. Go get me coffee."  
Derek ignores the teenager's ramblings and shifts slightly in the chair he's slouching in- has been slouching in for the past three days- and is just starting to fall asleep when Stiles pounces on him. Derek groans.  
"Coffee," Stiles says, "Want coffee."  
"So go and get yourself some coffee," Derek replies, without even opening his eyes.  
Stiles shifts so his head is on Derek's chest. "I want you to go with me," he whines.  
Derek cracks open an eyes and immediately wishes he hadn't. He groans again when he sees Stiles' pouty expression, the one his mate knows he can't say no to. "You're such a child," he says grumpily and pushes Stiles to the floor before getting to his feet and heading to the elevator.  
"Now who's being childish," Stiles humphs as he picks himself up,but he follows the werewolf to the elevator anyway.

 

Mickey is pacing the floor when the rest of the pack drops by later. He hasn't been able to get out of his own head all day. There had been a steady chant going on ever since his dad had punched Ian in the face. "Keep Gallagher safe, keep Gallagher safe, keep Gallagher safe," on a continued loop, over and over.   
Every beep of the machines that are now hooked up to Ian's practically lifeless form were a reminder of his failure. And Mickey's wolf is whimpering at the thought, but it's also roaring and stratching at Mickey's insides to be let out and avenge his mate.   
The endless chant has now been replaced with a thousand screaming voices: "Failure. Failure. Failure."   
"Hey," Scott is grabbing his shoulders, shaking his lightly, "when's the last time you slept?"  
Mickey shrugs, thumbing his lip. He honestly couldn't remember; the voices made doing anything kind of impossible.   
"Or ate," Erica adds, sidling up next to Scott with her arms crossed, looking Mickey up and down, "Ya look like shit, Mick."  
"Well, how would you look," he grinds out through clamped teeth, "if your mate was dying, and it was all your goddamn fault?" He sets his jaw and fixes Erica with a glare that silences her.  
For about ten seconds. "None of this is your fault, Mickey." He snorts. "Really," she insists, "Your dad did this."  
"She's right," Derek says from his place at the door.  
Mickey turns to look at his alpha. "Then why the fuck do I feel so guilty?"   
"Because you love him," Derek says simply, putting his arm around Mickey's shoulders, "and you can't do anything to help him."  
The shorter man shakes out of Derek's grip and saunters over to the chair that had become his permanent residence the past few days. He plops down, staring at his mate. "Could you guys just go?" he says softly.  
Everyone nods and exits, Erica kisses the top of his head before she leaves.   
Stiles pauses, and Mickey looks at him questioningly. "Look," Stiles starts, "I know you don't like me, and I think you're an asshole. Whatever. But... Ian, he saved my life and he's a decent guy. So, if he loves you, there must be something decent about you too." He steps towards the brunette, offering a hand. "Truce?"  
Mickey eyes the hand and then glances at Ian's face before shaking it once. Stiles nods and leaves.

 

"We have to kill him!" Erica shouts.  
"It isn't your call!" Derek insists.  
"Ian is pack," Scott says firmly, "We have to protect family."  
"Ian is fine." Derek replies.  
"He could die!" Erica yells, getting in Derek's face, "Do you know what happens to a werewolf if their mate dies? What if Stiles were in a coma?"  
Derek's nostrils flare, and Erica knows she's gone too far. His eyes flash red and she whimpers, moving away from the alpha. "No one goes near, Terry," he announces to the pack, "That's an order." He turns to leave the train car.   
"Great," Scott mumbles.  
"What do we do now?" Boyd asks.  
"There's nothing we can do," Allison says, "He gave us an order."  
"No," Lydia says slowly," He gave the werewolves an order."  
Everyone turns to Stiles. "Stiles," Scott says, "is there a way you guys could..."  
Stiles sighs, eyes on the exit Derek had just disappeared out of. He knows if he does this, his mate will have a hard time forgiving him. He also knows if Ian dies, Mickey will literally lose his mind. He shoves his hands in his pockets, turns towards his fellow humans and nods. "We kill him. For Ian."

 

Terry Milkovich downs yet another shot of whiskey. He had lost count of how many he'd had awhile ago. He looks around the bar, and decides he should upstairs to his room. He stands, shakey on his feet, but he can hold his fucking liquor. Jesus, he's not a fag.   
Once he's inside his room, he kicks his shoes off before he even shuts the door.   
"Hey, there Terry," a voice in the corner makes his jump. He sees a scrawny kid sitting in a chair next to the lamp. The kid reaches up and tugs the lamp cord, immediately illuminating his face. "How ya doing?"  
Terry squints his eyes. Something about the teenager is familiar. "I know you," he says, pointing a finger at the guy.  
The kid stands, a smirk on his face. "Yeah, you do. My name's Stiles."  
The door slams behind him. He jumps again and turns. "And I'm Lydia," says the pretty redhead who had apparently been behind the door the whole time. She wags her fingers at him.  
Someone clears their throat in the corner. A tall, tan boy steps out of the shadows. "Danny," he informs, raising a hand.  
"What the fuck is going on here?" Terry demands, his words slurred.  
"Oh," a girl's voice says from the bathroom, "we're here to kill you." She steps out, a bow and arrow poised in her hands. "I'm Allison, by the way." She raises the bow, and points it at him.  
"Wait," Terry cries, "What for?"  
The humans look at each other. "For Ian," they say in unison.   
Allison releashes the arrow, and that is the end of Terry Milkovich.

 

Derek storms into the train car, where his betas are waiting nervously, the idea of someone disobeying their alpha causing them serious anxiety. "Where's everyone else?" he asks, looking around.  
The betas look at each, but say nothing. They're purposely avoiding his gaze. "Where are they?" he demands loudly. The werewolves wince. Isaac whimpers. Derek's head snaps towards him, "do you know where they are?" Isaac shakes his head. Derek grabs him by the back of shirt, hauling him to his feet. "You're lying!" he yells.   
"They went to-" Isaac starts.  
"Isaac, don't!" Scott jumps up.   
Derek lets his eyes go red. At that moment, the humans burst in the door. They're in good cheer, until they see Derek. They fall silent, and Derek, having spotted Allison's bow with no arrow, knows exactly what they've done. He lets go of Isaac. "Who's idea was it?" Derek asks through clenched teeth.  
There's a moment of silence before, "mine," and Stiles is stepping forward. Derek pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs, pointing at the door of the train car. Stiles exits quietly.  
"The rest of you," Derek says to the pack, "are not off the hook. Go home."   
The pack scurries past him, grateful to be out of the line of fire for at least one night.   
Derek steps out the car, greeted with the sight of his mate chewing his bottom lip, hands stuffed in his pockets. "Before you yell at me-" Stiles tries, taking a step towards Derek. The werewolf silences him by raising a hand.   
"What made you think it was a good idea?" Derek asks. Stiles open his mouth. "Don't answer that." Derek steps up to Stiles and points a finger in his face. "How dare you," he says loudly, "use my pack and go against my orders to kill a man."  
"I know it was bad, but-" Stiles says.  
"No. No 'buts.' It was bad, period. Bad doesn't even begin to cover it."  
"Okay, okay," Stiles raises his hands in surrender, "it was horrendous. Technically, though, I didn't use your pack. It was purely a humans-only mission. Completely exclusive."  
Derek backs up, running a hand over his face. "That doesn't even matter, Stiles. You defied me. Again. That makes it okay for everyone else to do it. And you committed a felony!"  
"Technically, Allison committed a felony." Derek glares daggers at him. "Just saying," Stiles mumbles. Derek sighs. "Look," Stiles says gently after a moment, stepping towards Derek cautiously, "No one got hurt. Eveything's fine."  
"That isn't the point," Derek mumbles.  
Stiles looks up at Derek through his eyelashes. "What is the point?"  
"Goddamnit, Stiles. How long did it take me to trust you?" He turns away from the teenager. "And this just.." he trails off.  
"Wait, hold it. Are you saying you don't trust me now?"   
"How the hell could I?" Derek roars. He glares at Stiles momentarily before feeling bad for upsetting his mate. "Listen," he mumbles, "I don't have time for this. I have to go tell my beta that my mate killed his father." Derek steps towards the door to the wearhouse.  
"Derek," Stiles breathes out, a pleading tone creeping into his voice, "I'm sorry. I.. I didn't think it would.."   
Derek pauses by the door, but doesn't turn. "You never do."


	8. Contentment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles reaches out to Derek.
> 
> Ian wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you feeeeel the loooove toooonight?
> 
> (This is all fluff)

"Hey, this is Derek Hale's phone. You can leave a message, but Derek probably isn't going to call you back anyway, so why waste your breath?"  
Stiles smiles softly at hearing his own voice on Derek's voicemail. He remembers having to wrestle Derek's phone from him and lock himself in the bathroom to record it. The funniest part was, afterwards, Derek tried to change it and couldn't figure out how, so the message had remained.  
The beep of the phone pulls Stiles from his thoughts. "Hey, Der, it's me." He takes a deep breath. "Look, I know it's late and you're still mad but I can't sleep and I'm sorry and I miss you and if you could just pretend you're not angry-" a shrill beep interrupts his rambling, letting him know his time is up. He considers calling again, but realizes it's futile. He throws the phone across the room, turns over in his bed and tries to fall asleep.

 

"Mickey! Where's Mickey?"   
Mickey hears Ian's voice from the bathroom. He quickly zips his jeans and sprints down the hall, stumbling into Ian's room.  
"Gallagher?" Mickey approaches the bed cautiously, eyeing his mate. Ian is sitting up, surrounded by people with an anxious look on his face. He looks immediately relaxed at the appearance of the werewolf.   
"Mickey," he breathes out. He tries to stand, but Mickey is by him in an instance, pushing him down.   
"You can't touch him," a nurse says to Mickey.  
"Fuck off," he growls out, eyes not leaving Ian's face.   
"We'll leave you two alone for a moment," another nurse says.  
After they're gone, Mickey cups his mate's face gently. Ian flinches, surprised that such an intimate gesture would come from a Milkovich.  
"You're alive," Mickey breaks the silence quietly.   
"No shit," Ian says, but he's grinning stupidly.  
"Fuck you," Mickey replies instantly, grinning back.   
"Were you worried?"  
"Not a bit," Mickey lies, dropping his hand, "Knew I wasn't getting rid of ya that easy."  
"You don't want rid of me," Ian says playfully.   
Mickey moves in closer, pressing his lips softly to Ian's. He pulls back after a second, face breaking into a smile. "Love you, fuckhead."  
Ian smiles back, "love you too. Asshole."

 

Stiles hears a rustling at his window, and knows it's Derek. Has to be Derek. He hopes beyond hope that it's Derek. Stiles had been lying in bed for hours, crying softly, wishing Derek would crawl through his window. Stiles doesn't move because if this is a dream, it's a good dream and he refuses to wake up from it.  
There's a sharp clank as Derek's jeans and belt hit the floor and he's suddenly crawling into bed with Stiles in only his boxers. He wraps his strong arms around Stiles' torso, and pulls him in. "Can't sleep either," he mumbles in his mate's neck.  
"Still mad at me?" Stiles questions, his voice breaking. He almost bursts into tears again, thinking of how Derek doesn't trust him now.  
Derek shakes his head. "No," he whispers and kisses the back of Stiles' neck, "I'm sorry for what I said. I didn't mean it."  
"Yes, you did. I screwed up. I'm the one that's sorry. I shouldn't have-"  
"Stiles," Derek says, "shut up. I was wrong. I let my emotions cloud my judgement. I'm sorry I yelled at you. Go to sleep."  
Stiles pushes back against his mate. "Say you're wrong again," he whispers happily.  
Derek props himself up on an elbow so he can look down at Stiles. He leans down and kisses Stiles on the nose. "I wrong. You were right. Happy?"  
Stiles shifts around so he's on his back. He smiles up at the alpha. "Very."  
"Can we sleep now?"  
"First things first." He digs his fingers into the back of Derek's neck and pulls him in for a kiss. He opens his mouth, moaning when Derek uses his tongue to map out Stiles' mouth. Derek moves, straddling Stiles' thighs with his own. He presses his hips down, causing both he and his mate to groan.   
Derek rolls, mirroring the position they had just been in with Stiles on top now. Stiles breaks the kiss and sits back, panting a little.   
"Too many clothes," Derek mumbles before tugging on the hem of Stiles' t-shirt. Stiles rolls his eyes and pulls the shirt over his head clumsily.   
He crosses his arms over his chest, hunching down. "It's cold," he complains.   
Derek chuckles. "C'mere." He pulls on one of Stiles' arms, yanking him down and crashing their mouths together. He locks his fingers in Stiles' hair. As they're kissing, Derek reaches underneath the mattress for the lube. He pulls his head back and tugs on Stiles' boxers. "Off," he commands.  
"Bossy pants," Stiles grumbles, but he stands and pulls his underwear down. "What about yours?"  
Derek smirks up at the teen from where he's laying. "You do it."  
"Bossy and lazy," Stiles complains. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of Derek's boxers and yanks them off, scratching lines down Derek's hips with his fingernails as he does.   
Derek hisses at the mixture of pain and pleasure. Stiles looks down at his mate. "What?" Derek asks after Stiles has been staring awhile.   
"You're so good-looking. Why are you so good-looking?" Stiles whines.   
Derek openly laughs. "You're complaining?"  
"Yes, I'm filing a formal complaint."  
Derek laughs again. "Just get over here."  
Stiles straddles his stomach. "How do you want me?"  
"Like this," Derek says, drizzling lube on his fingers. "Scoot back."  
Stiles complies, moving so Derek has a better angle to work his fingers into Stiles. The younger man moans at the intrusion and Derek pauses. "No," Stiles pants, "Don't stop."  
Derek pushes the finger in further, enjoying Stiles' gasps. He hooks it and strokes Stiles' protaste. "More," Stiles moans and Derek does as he's told, scissoring his fingers, opening Stiles up for him. After a minute or two, Stiles is panting with lust and want. "Derek," he breathes out.  
"Ready?" Derek grunts. Stiles nods. The alpha squirts lube on his dick and strokes it. Stiles lifts himself up, and settles himself on the tip of Derek's dick. The older man has to stop himself from thrusting into Stiles more. Stiles moves down more, and grimaces. "Are you okay?" Derek asks, concerned, "We don't have to-"  
"Just shut up," Stiles says and gets lower, all of Derek's dick in him now. He just sits for a minute and then lifts himself all the way up and slams back down again, making both of them moan. This continues for awhile, both grunting and groaning with the sensations. Stiles rolls his hips a couple times and Derek's hips slap up involuntarily. "Stiles, I-" he grunts out, and his orgasm hits him.   
"Der..Derek, oh my God," Stiles moans, the vision of Derek coming makes him come. After the high wears off, Stiles pulls himself off Derek's now limp dick and whimpers at the loss. He lays next to his mate. He sighs, snuggling into Derek's chest. "Well, if I wasn't tired before..." he trails off, closing his eyes.  
Derek chuckles and wraps his arms around Stiles' back. He kisses Stiles' forehead. "I love you," he whispers.  
"I love you too, Sourwolf."

 

Mickey hovers. He knows he's hovering, but he can't bring himself to give a shit. He's also painfully aware of the fact that he's being a faggot. He can't seem to be bothered with that either.   
"When can we leave?" Ian groans out as the nurses probe him.   
"Soon, Firecrotch," Mickey assures.  
"M'so tired," Ian mumbles, his eyes fluttering shut.   
"You have to stay awake," the doctor checking his blood pressure says. Ian groans in frustration.  
"Jesus Christ," Mickey says, running a worried hand through his hair, "Can't you just let him sleep?"  
"If he sleeps, he might slip back into a coma," the doctor explains, talking like he's speaking to a first grader.   
Mickey stifles a growl. "So how long until we can leave?" he asks the doctor through clenched teeth.   
"Not for another night or two," the doctor replies while he writes something on a clipboard, "You can sleep now, Mr. Gallagher." He leaves the room.  
"I wanna go home," Ian says.  
Mickey feels a pang in his gut. Surely Ian meant home to the place where he grew up and not their shitty little apartment here in California, where the water didn't get hot and they had to wash their clothes in the communal washer at two in the morning because that was the only time there weren't thugs down there looking for a fight. Ian must mean he misses his biological family, and not the weird, supernatural one that adopted them here.   
"Mick?" Ian's voice pulls the werewolf from his thoughts.   
"Yeah?"  
"Will you sleep with me?"  
Mickey smirks and climbs into the hospital bed with his mate. With all the tubes gone, Ian is free to move around. He takes advantage of this, burrowing his face in Mickey's neck. Mickey rests his arm behind Ian's back. "Mick?"  
"Hm?"   
"Were you worried?"  
"Yeah, Gallagher, I was."  
Ian lets that sink in for a minute. "Mick?"  
"What?"  
"I love you."  
"I love you too, kid."

 

Stiles wakes up the next morning sticky and irritated. Derek had somehow shifted him around while they were sleeping so they were spooning. Since Derek is still snoozing, Stiles sends his elbow flying back. Derek grunts when Stiles makes contact with his ribs. "Wake up," Stiles demands.  
"I'm awake," Derek mumbles, his eyes still shut.  
"Get up, then."  
"What's the rush?" Derek asks, pulling Stiles closer.   
Stiles wiggles away. "I'm all gross," he whines.  
Derek chuckles. "You're never gross."  
"I am right now. Take me to the shower."  
"You can't take yourself?" Derek asks pointlessly, smiling to himself.  
"Derek," Stiles whines, drawling out the alpha's name. Derek responds by yanking the teenager off the bed. Stiles yelps in surprise. Derek shifts, putting one hand under Stiles' knees and the other under his upper back. Stiles snuggles lazily into Derek's chest. "Mm," he hums quietly, "love you."  
Derek dumps him into the bathtub with a smirk. "Love you too."


	9. Predator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian gets out of the hospital. 
> 
> The pack goes camping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE UPDATE THAT TOOK A MILLION YEARS.
> 
> A thousand apologies for not doing this sooner. I know it's been months. I won't leave you hanging that long for anything ever again, I swear.
> 
> Gonna be wrapping this up soon. Only a couple more chapters to go. 
> 
> HOW WILL IT END

Mickey wakes up to the sound of squealing. “The fuck?” he grumbles as he sits up in his chair, stretching out limbs that have been aching since Ian was put in the hospital.   
Erica smiles wickedly at him. “Oh, sorry, did we wake you?”  
Mickey feels a pang at the way she teases him so easily. He turns away and says nothing, throat tightening as he thinks of Mandy.   
“We just came to see you,” Scott says to Ian, “How ya doing?”  
“Fine,” Ian replies, “Ready to be out of here.”  
“We’re all ready for you to be out of here,” Stiles says with a smile.   
“He’s getting out today,” Mickey says firmly.   
“No, he isn’t,” Derek says, “He’s not fully recovered.”   
“I’m recovered enough,” Ian insists, “I just want to go home.”  
Derek moves beside him to put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “As long as we’re here, you are home.”  
“If he wants to go home,” Mickey growls, “He’s going home.” 

 

“So he’s dead?” Mickey asks again.  
Stiles nods. “Yeah.”  
Mickey nods slowly, letting the realization sink in. “Good,” he breathes out finally, “As long as Ian’s safe, it’s good.” He looks over to where the redhead is laughing at something Erica’s told him. “What happens to a werewolf if they lose their mate?”  
“They go crazy,” Stiles says, “Literally. I could only find three cases where the werewolves didn’t kill themselves.”   
Mickey nods again, letting his eyes slide back to the human in front of him. “Thank you.”  
“For orchestrating the killing of your father?”  
“No, for orchestrating the killing of the man who has terrorized me all my life.”  
Stiles gulps, wanting to say something comforting. For once, words fail him. He looks down at his hands for a moment before locking eyes with Mickey again. “You’re welcome.” 

 

“A day surrounded by nature will be beneficial after such a traumatic pack experience,” Lydia says pointedly.   
“The full moon is tonight,” Derek says tightly, “And you want to go camping? Are you out of your minds? Do you really think-“  
“Derek,” Stiles says gently, sliding from the arm of the chair into Derek’s lap, “We’ll be miles and miles away from anyone.”  
“Yeah,” Isaac says, “It’s not even legal to camp in the reserve anyway.”  
“That makes me want to take you,” Derek says wearily.   
“We have our anchors,” Boyd adds, “We can control the shift.”   
“Because you did so well at the last full moon?” Derek questions sarcastically.  
Stiles runs his fingers through Derek’s hair. “Please?” he pouts. “It would be fun.”  
“Yeah, Derek,” Erica snickers, “Don’t you want to be known as the ‘fun alpha?’”  
Derek glares at her.   
“I think it’s a good idea,” Ian pipes up.   
“Ditto,” Scott says.   
“See, Der,” Erica says, “You’re alone in your decision. We’ll go without you.”   
Derek flashes his eyes, causing the werewolves to whimper. “The hell you will.”  
“Does that mean you’ll go?” Stiles asks hopefully.  
Derek sighs and pushes the tips of his fingers into his eyes. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

 

The campfire pops, sending sparks flying. Everyone is sitting on the ground in a circle. Dark has long since fallen, and they’ve been staring at the campfire in silence for over thirty minutes now.   
“Aren’t we supposed to sing a song or something?” Scotts asks.  
“I thought we were supposed to tell scary stories,” Stiles says from beside him.   
“Do you even know any scary stories?” Jackson asks him incredulously.   
“Of course I do!” Stiles yelps.  
“Name one,” Jackson challenges.  
“Well, one time I was face-to-face with a kanima; that was pretty terrifying!” Stiles sputters.   
Jackson glares at him, opening his mouth to say something biting. Lydia puts her hand on the back of his neck. He leans into the touch, closing his eyes, all anger forgotten.   
Stiles lays his head onto Derek’s shoulder. Derek drapes his arm across his mate’s shoulders. “Love you,” he whispers into Stiles’ ear, nuzzling at it with his nose.  
Stiles snuggles into Derek’s hold. “Love you too.”  
Mickey observes this from across the circle. He turns away when Derek catches him staring. He watches the way the fire lights up Ian’s face, making his green eyes sparkle. “Do you wanna go for a walk?” he asks him.   
Ian looks at him, grin illuminated by the light of the moon. “Sure.”   
“We’ll be back,” Mickey says to the group.  
“Go far enough away so I don’t have to hear you sucking his dick,” Erica calls after them. 

 

Ian tilts his head back as Mickey leaves a trail of kisses down his neck. “Can they- oh, god- can they hear us?”  
“I don’t really give a shit if they can, Gallagher.”  
“Fuck. Are you gonna get like this every full moon?”  
Mickey grins up at him. “Who says it’s the full moon? Maybe I just missed being able to do this.” He shoves Ian back into the tree he’s standing next to and kisses him rough.   
“Or maybe the moon makes you horny,” Ian teases when they break apart.  
Mickey shrugs. “Maybe. You complaining?”  
“No, no. I’m definitely on board.”  
“Then shut the fuck up.” Mickey grabs the back of Ian’s neck, biting at his lips and licking into his mouth. He ducks his head so he can drag his teeth against Ian’s neck.  
“Mickey,” Ian moans, head tossed back against the tree’s trunk. Mickey stops suddenly. “What?” Ian says breathlessly, “What’s wrong?”  
Mickey puts a finger to his lips and listens. “Someone’s walking this way.”  
“Stiles said the reserve is closed at night.”  
“Yeah, and we’re still here, aren’t we? We can’t be the only ones breaking a law, Gallagher.”  
“Is it a werewolf?”  
Mickey shakes his head. “No, but…” he pauses and cocks his head to the side, “They smell like..” He inhales deeply through his nose, “It smells like Allison, but different.”  
“Different how?”  
“Like it’s her-“  
“Her father?” A deep voice asks from the shadows. A man emerges, gun slung over his shoulder. “Because that’s who I am.”


End file.
